To Be A Man
by Jedi Ani Unduli
Summary: Fireman Frank liked the captain well enough and the Pendleton – on their good days. He always looks out for Sybert, though, along with the other crew. But when a sudden tragedy befalls the Pendleton, he has to convince Sybert that it's his turn to look out for the others. Sometimes a little tough love leads to unexpected growth.


_This I jotted down as I rewatched The Finest Hours for... what, the fifth time? I did_ way _too much research on the true story compared to the movie version, but it did give me this idea for the movie version. My goal was to write it down and publish it after basic grammar and spelling checks. All in all, it took me about 3-4 hours to write this._

 _Disclaimer: The Finest Hours is not owned by me. If it was, I wouldn't have included that pointless romance. The character development among the various crew members and Coast Guard members was enough combined with the action they engaged in. QUIT IT WITH THE POINTLESS ROMANCES, DISNEY!_

Fireman Frank liked the captain well enough – on his good days. He liked the Pendleton – on its good days. However, today wasn't a good day for either the captain or for the Pendleton, which meant he wasn't too fond of either right at hand. However, he still had to work on the propulsion systems, regardless of whether he liked or disliked what was happening.

Well, he was essentially done for now. The propulsion systems were good as long as the generator held out, and the generator depended on the boiler to run in the first place. None of that would last long if the engine room was to, say flood, and _that_ wouldn't happen unless the weld was bad. Speaking of which, the humming from said weld was getting louder. Was the boy telling the captain about it? He should check.

As he walked along the metal walkway, he saw two men close to the only telephone down here, and heard a lone voice raised in protest. He noticed Sybert, chief engineer of the Pendleton, attempting to reason with Captain Fitzgerald over the phone. Tchuda stood by, smiling for whatever godforsaken reason caused him to smile. Probably was due to the captain riding roughshod over his chief engineer – again. Crazy bastard. Couldn't he hear this crazy humming from where he stood on deck?

"Hey, Pop?" Sybert was tracing the tip of the weld with his fingertips, his back facing him. The concern in his voice was enough validation of the trouble they'd found themselves in. He had been right to check on the young engineer. The guy was 23-years old* and had been sailing with their crew ever since this ship had been yanked from drydock after World War II to serve as a shipping vessel. Sure he was brilliant and knew the ship like the back of his hand, but he lacked the confidence needed to display his lawful authority. He could be mistaken for a librarian, given how much he preferred to hang out here compared to the mess hall.

"I hear it." The older** American knew the young engineer held the same concerns as he, even though his confidence to challenge the captain's direct orders needed improvement. At this rate, a miracle needed to intervene to cause Sybert to disobey the captain's authority. So what if he preferred machines to people? If he didn't grow a backbone soon enough, they couldn't prevent whatever may come of this weld.

The humming just wasn't stopping. As the storm threatened to prolong itself, the tune had changed frequencies but not stopped altogether. That was in stark contrast to the beginning of the Pendleton's voyage, where it had hardly hummed. Now it wouldn't stop, and this was hours into the fierce nor'easter. Pop wiped his hands on the rag he carried around with him, keeping his hands busy while his mind wandered. He could almost guarantee what he'd be asked to do next. In other circumstances, he'd tell Sybert to go do it himself. In this weather? The scrawny kid'd get himself washed over the side faster than a shark going after blood in the water.

"You wanna go up on deck, have a look at those crack arrestors holding that weld together?"

"Might as well go be get a hat, Popo." He could _hear_ the stereotypical Cajun smirk during Tchuda's sentence.

"What did he say?" he asked gruffly.

"Uh, he says he'd like you to consider taking a hat with you as well," Sybert said, glancing over in his direction. The smile on his face wasn't near big enough to hide the worry on his face. Tchuda's chuckles followed Frank out of the engine room.

As if things couldn't get worse, the ship lurched only to be jolted back upright by the sheer force of the waves. As soon as Frank felt it, he _knew_. It would only get worse from here on out. He had to convince Sybert to slow down the ship.

"Sybert!" he roared, rocketing down the metal steps and catwalks. "I didn't make it topside. That weld can't hold in these seas. You gotta slow her down." For a moment, Sybert appeared to consider what he had said. Appeared to. Then he made for the phone again.

"I'm calling the captain back," Sybert said. Frank held back a groan, but the weld didn't. The hum warbled up a slightly higher pitch than last time before immediately dropping back down. It didn't matter; the intensity had increased. The ship had to be slowed down. The dialing of the bridge didn't ease his nerves one bit.

Crack. Shatter. _Snap_. Water was pouring in like no one's business. And then they all flew _up_. Frank knew as he landed that the pain in his arm wasn't near bad enough to keep him from working; it was _why_ they flew up that worried him more. After gathering the crew to collect what they could to stymie the fracture, he fiddled with an extra belt to serve as a temporary sling for his injured arm.

Tchuda then appeared back down from heading to the bridge. However, apparently now there wasn't a bridge no more, or a captain or any high-ranking officer. The men moved out of the engine room as one to begin saying their prayers for the likely dead officers. As Frank moved to follow, he noticed that Sybert was nowhere to be found. He nearly groaned aloud at that realization, but remained quiet as another hit him.

He had an idea.

* * *

"Sybert! A word," he called out down the corridor. He didn't miss the look of surprise on the kid's face. Honestly, he hadn't thought he would have been able to open all those doors, but it was surprising what he could do given that he knew the ship. And the kid. Still looking after him all this time, just as he had promised.

"That hothead, Brown, he wants to launch the lifeboats," Frank started, still fiddling with the belt. It needed to sit just right.

"The lifeboats?" Sybert looked at him, stunned, before looking back down. _Really?_ Now _he looks down?!_ Frank continued, dogged in his determination to continue to make his point.

"Quirey, he wants to do nothin'. Now between them, the two of them are getting the men worked up. You –" Frank bit back a pained groan as his injured arm was moved up into the belt. Sybert's worn hands guided his arm through, and then readjusted the belt for comfort. One thought made it through all that pain: So the kid _was_ paying attention to him. He took a couple deep breaths before continuing on.

"Now, I figure that you know the boat better than anybody. You're practically married to it." At that, Sybert rolled his eyes upwards at him. It wasn't like that had been a constant dig from the guys for the past however-many-years (it had). "So I think they'll listen to ya." Sybert's eyes widened so Frank could see the whites clearly.

"Listen to me?" Frank held his disbelieving gaze. "Pop, those men don't like me. Nobody on the ship likes me but you and Tchuda."

"They might not like ya, but they'll know to listen to ya," Frank said firmly. Which he hoped would be enough. Sybert was the last ranking officer they had on the ship, and if order wasn't established soon Quirey and Brown would start a war with all their arguing goin' on. Sybert still looked unconvinced.

That's why Frank had Sybert tell him what he needed to know the entire walk back towards the arguing group of men.

* * *

Well. _That_ could have gone better. But it also could have gone worse. Sybert's words were enough to convince the others to at least help them temporarily. It was enough help to at least set up the manual tiller. Frank worried that Sybert might not have the necessary qualities to get Brown and the others to stay. He was sent to search for more ropes for the pulleys when he saw a cluster of men forming around the loudmouth up on deck. He stood back from the entrance so they couldn't see him. He observed for a moment longer before ducking back down below.

"Alright, here we go," Sybert's voice sounded more straightforward than it had earlier, for which Frank was glad. Perhaps it was being back in his home territory, but Sybert did appear to be more relaxed and in control. "Alright here we go." Frank saw Tchuda struggling with the rope at the far end and made a beeline. His one good arm would be all that was needed to steady the iron bar. "All right hang on. Easy now, easy fellas."

"I got it." Sybert appeared glad to see him and strained harder against the iron, trying to minimize the swaying. Seeing him do so troubled Frank. With himself there, they had just enough to get the manual tiller in place. But they would need more to run it and keep the engine room clear. They would need Brown and the others. How to convince Sybert?

They heaved together on Sybert's command, and the tiller was in place. Frank looked concerned as Sybert struggled to regain his breath. It didn't take long. "All right. Now we've got a tiller. We're gonna drive her up on a shoal."

"Uh-uh. Brown and them others, they're getting ready to launch them lifeboats." He saw the others immediately zone in on him and Sybert. This was it. "They think it's their best hope.

"Oh, Pop." Sybert met his eyes, almost pleading. "We need every guy we got."

"Well, they're gonna take them lifeboats," Frank reiterated sternly. He maintained eye contact, watching Sybert's face like a hawk does it's prey. _I can't make the decision for ya_ , he thought. _But I can at least support you when you make it_. Sybert looked around, clasping his face in what seemed to be anguished thought. When he turned back around and faced him head on, however, Frank saw something new there. Something that hadn't been there before. That became obvious as Sybert grabbed a hatchet and stormed towards the deck.

He had succeeded. Now to follow Sybert's lead as he worked to save them all.

*I switched Sybert's and Frank's ages, since they're obviously different when you compare the movie to the source material. Sybert was 33 and Frank 27 (more on him later) at the time of the Pendleton breaking in two; I made Sybert 23 and Frank 37.

**Apparently, Frank Fauteux (from _Massachusetts_ ) was 27 years old at the time of the Pendleton sinking. So why does Frank (Graham McTavish) sport white facial hair? And _still_ sound Scottish? … Figures they'd care more about the stupid romance than the AMAZING FACTS REGARDING THE ACTUAL RESCUE. **Ahem** Excuse me.


End file.
